


Snapshots

by Heavyheadedgal



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Drabbles, F/F, F/M, Gen, Inspired by Fanart, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 19:43:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14625702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavyheadedgal/pseuds/Heavyheadedgal
Summary: Four short fics inspired by fanart created by Yeoyou aka Floating-in-the-blue.





	1. Hot off the press

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fanart that inspired this piece can be seen here: https://floating-fanart.tumblr.com/post/161050908235/just-the-picture-this-time-originated-in-this

“Phryne, are you awake?”

A muffled groan from beneath the pillows. Possibly assent. Or denial.

“I’ve got something that might interest you.”

A grunt.

“Seems you’ve made the local papers. Again.”

Phryne poked her head up from the blankets, blinking.

“Ah, that’s got your attention,” Jack said. He held a cup of tea in each hand, and carried a newspaper folded under his arm.

“A woman needs her beauty sleep. Especially when someone kept me up half the night.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining at the time.”

Phryne gave a satisfied purr and rolled onto her back. Jack placed one teacup on the bedside table, tossed the paper onto the coverlet, and sat down next to her. He had been up hours ago; since joining Phryne in England, they had worked out a comfortable morning rhythm. Nothing short of murder was enough to get Phryne out of bed before 9 a.m. Jack, meanwhile, was an inveterate early riser. So after waking, and more often than not, amorous activities, Phryne would roll over and go back to sleep. Jack would get up, breakfast, and go for a morning stroll, popping into the village for a newspaper and groceries, then return to have tea with Phryne. The cottage they were borrowing from one of Phryne’s friends was nestled in a small valley, among rolling hills and farmland. They had only meant to stay a day or two, on their way to Scotland, but events had decided otherwise, and now they had been here nearly two weeks.

“Your tea’s getting cold,” Jack said, sipping his.

“Well? Aren’t you going to tell me what it says?” Phryne shifted into a sitting position.

“See for yourself,” Jack said, handing her the teacup. “Oh!” Phryne said, unfolding the front page. “That’s a rather good headline.”

**LADY DETECTIVE OUTFOXES KILLER**

proclaimed the Daily Bugle in its largest font. Below was a photograph of Phryne, in riding clothes, astride a giant chestnut hunter.

“We should send it to Mrs. Collins for her scrapbook,” Jack suggested.

“ _By a lucky coincidence, the Hon. Miss Fisher happened to recognize the criminal among the hunting party_ …” Phryne sipped her tea, frowning. “Luck had nothing to do with it! That was excellent sleuthing on my part,” she grumbled.

“Well, you were lucky the owner of Bella didn’t prosecute you for horse thieving.”

“It was hardly theft, Jack, the horse was right there. I couldn’t let Winston Johns get away. Thankfully, I’m an excellent rider.”

“Yes, especially when you decided to jump the hedgerow,” Jack added dryly.

Phryne smiled at him. “Not exactly quiet rural idyll we planned, Inspector.”

“I never expected anything different,” Jack grinned.


	2. A Berlin Story, 1925

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can see the fanart that inspired this here: https://floating-fanart.tumblr.com/post/161050861155/floating-in-the-blue-putting-these-side-by-side

She heads up the stairs, intending to have a cigarette on the balcony. It’s crowded, too warm in the nightclub, and she wants to look at the stars a moment. The night hasn’t gone to plan. Exploring the delights of Berlin after long days at the medical conference was meant to be relaxing. Instead she feels melancholy, lost in a crowd of strangers, fumbling through a language she barely speaks. When she caught her reflection in the mirror behind the bar, her eyes were sad. She had decided to get some air, but before reaching the first landing, she stops.

She would recognize that voice anywhere.

Mac turns, puts her hands in her pockets, and just watches her. Even in a crowded cabaret, packed with flappers dressed to the nines, the woman shines out. Phryne Fisher. It’s been years, since the stinking hospital tents, and the grubby streets of Paris. Her oldest friend looks so beautiful, so free, and Mac’s heart feels lighter in her chest. She’ll rush over to greet her, in a moment; for now she just wants to look, and thank the fates for putting Phryne Fisher in her path again.

Phryne turns her head, feeling someone watching her, and catches Mac’s gaze. Her face blooms with a smile. Suddenly the night opens wide, full of promises.


	3. Built for Two?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fanart that inspired this can be seen here: https://floating-fanart.tumblr.com/post/161060980885/for-whopooh

“Cover your eyes.”

He gives her The Look. Eye brow raised, lips compressed, conveying both suspicion and affection.

“It’s a surprise.” Her tone doesn’t brook opposition.

“Miss Fisher, I told you not to go to any trouble. It’s just a birthday.” Jack’s voice has a note of worry in it.

“Don’t ‘Miss Fisher’ me. It wasn’t any trouble, and if you don’t cover your eyes,” she pauses, “I’ll do it for you.”

 Phryne toys with the end of her scarf to illustrate her meaning. Jack feels the back of his neck go warm. “Fine,” he huffs, placing a hand over his eyes.

“No peeking!” She instructs playfully, taking his arm and leading him out of the parlour.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jack replies, sneaking a glance between his fingers as she guides him outside.

“Ta-da!” she says with a flourish, as they reach the porch steps.

Jack gapes, astonished. Mr. Butler stands in the front walk, next to a bicycle, polishing cloth in hand. “Happy Birthday, Inspector!” he says, smiling. “Many happy returns.”

Jack approaches the bike. “It’s a Mercedes-Benz path racer,” he says, eyes big as dinner plates.

“Go on, give it a try!” Phryne pushes him toward the bike encouragingly. Jack mounts it and caresses the handlebars, then pushes off, down the path, into the street. He does a circuit and brakes smoothly in front of the Wardlow. Phryne and Mr. Butler clap appreciatively.

“Phryne,” Jack says, grinning boyishly, “how can I thank you?”

Phryne hops onto the handlebars with a laugh. “Well, you can start with a ride!”  


	4. Je ne regrette rien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fanart that inspired this can be seen here: https://floating-fanart.tumblr.com/post/161050969125/floating-in-the-blue-for-bluecityrose-and-all

“Letter for you sir.”

Jack looked up as Collins entered his office.

“Looks like it’s from England,” Hugh smiled.

Jack took the envelope and opened it swiftly, sipping his tea. Seeing the contents, he choked and hastily put the envelope down.

“Is it from Miss Fisher?” asked Collins, who lingered in the office. “Any news I should pass on to Dottie?”

Clearing his throat, Jack replied, “Miss Fisher sends her regards, Collins.” Giving Hugh a stern look, he added, “I need those witness statements typed up within the hour, constable.”

“Of course, sir—right away, sir!” Hugh hustled back to his post.

“Close the door after you, Collins!”

Jack waited until the sound of typing drifted through his office door, then picked up the contents of the envelope again -- a photograph of Phryne, draped in black lace and very little else. Jack turned it over; on the back was written:

_Thought I’d send you a little souvenir from my stop in Paris._

_P_

Jack closed his eyes in fond exasperation, a sensation he was very familiar with. Of course she’d send it to his office, and not his home address, somehow avoiding obscenity laws in the process. Smiling to himself, he leaned down and unlocked the bottom left drawer of his desk, removing a file folder marked “P.F.” He added the photograph to the small collection inside: a strip of police mugshots, a newspaper clipping, and a business card that still smelled faintly of French perfume.  


End file.
